This time last year.

10.11.12
"The hospice nurses came round this morning. They want dad to go into the hospice and have offered us a flat there so we can stay with him. But dad wants to stay at home, so that is what we’re doing. I think what’s important now is that we respect his wishes. Our priority is that he doesn't suffer and has things his way. This year he has been so brave and so strong. But he’s had enough now. He wants to die at home and we will love him and nurse him until his last breath. I feel so blessed and privileged to be able to care for my wonderful, kind, loving father during his last days in this world. He cared for me all my life and I hope now I can care for him with the same love, patience and warmth. For the past few days I have felt so low. I have struggled to be strong. But today I felt differently because I have realised what a blessing it is to be able to be here for my father as he dies. I’m so grateful for that. I am heartbroken that I’m losing him, but today I feel blessed that I am here to take care of him.

He’s deteriorating quickly. Two weeks ago we took him to the hospital for the last time. Dad had fallen down the stairs on the way out and was so weak and frail. He was too shaky to get his words out so I told the Doctors, Jennings and a room full of complete strangers standing there staring at my poor dying dad, that he had had enough, no more investigations, painful procedures, he wanted to go home.

Daddy is getting weaker and frailer with each day. It won’t be long now; a few weeks perhaps. But despite it all his mind and spirit remain the same. He’s still his usual funny, lovely self. On Wednesday it really hit me – how ill he was and how little time there is left. He was so sick and having a really bad night. He was shaking as if he had Parkinson’s (the cancer has spread to his brain now) and looked so, so ill. He was confused and in pain and barely conscious. And I realised how quickly it was happening; he’s already on his journey into the next world. He’s dying and it’s plain to see. I was shocked, even though I knew it already. I began shivering and crying quietly. We didn’t think he’d make it through the night. I realised that this experience, this terrible loss, would be the hardest thing I have ever had to face. I have always thought of myself as a strong person, but for the first time I see that I may not be strong enough to survive this."

Today is my dad's birthday. He would have been fifty-one. This time of year is proving to be hard. So many anniversaries that mark the worst year of my life. His birthday, the day they told us he was going to die, the day he died, his funeral. Nine months since I saw his face, since I heard his voice. Nine months isn't that long a time, but as the end of this terrible year approaches, the reality of never seeing my father again beats like a painful drum in the back of my mind. Oh God what I wouldn't give for his advice, his wisdom, his love. I am lost and confused, trying to guide myself through. I trusted him more than I trust myself. His judgement and his selfless love for me meant he would never steer me wrong. What would he say to me now?

My dad had a hard life. His childhood was cut short and he grew up to be an angry, unhappy young man. It was his love and faith that saved him in the end. He paid the price of his mistakes and he atoned for them in his death. Oh God,he was so selfless in the end. He went through all of the treatment for us. He wanted to rest, to enjoy peace in the time he had left. But he let them cut him, for us. He let them poison him, for us. He let them try to burn the cancer out, for us. In the space of nine months he aged twenty years. Fifty years on this earth.

I miss my dad. Some days are okay; I'm learning to be a grown up, to look after myself. But other days are so hard and all I want is to be a little girl again and climb up next to him for a cuddle and listen to him talk. He always talked to me. Even as a little child he encouraged me to express myself and listened to me. He made my thoughts and opinions feel valued and worthwhile. He gave me my self worth and belief. He told me I deserved to be happy, to be respected, to be valued.

My dad was a flawed human being, but he was a good father to me. Not perfect by any stretch, but he laid the foundations that have made me who I am. He loved me so much! I never doubted it for a moment. I was always so proud to be his daughter. He always meant the world to me.

Happy birthday, dad.